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The Mel o dy of L i fe 



l.ydla Avery' Coonley Wncd 




Class ^S_il4-i 

Book A ^ i M 



Copyright }J« ill: 



COPyRlGHT DEPOSm 



MELODY OF LIFE 




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THE MELODY OF 
LIFE 



BY 

LYDIA AVERY COONLEY WARD 



The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant 
places; yea, I have a goodly heritage. 

Psalms 



NEW YORK 

JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 

1921 






Copyrighted 1 92 1 by 
JAMES r. WHITE & CO 



r,Ai 31 1921 
0)aA614552 



TO 

THE MEMORY 

OF 

JOHN C. COONLEY 



PREFACE 



RS. Coonley Ward's ample and beautiful house 
on the Lake Shore in Chicago was for many 
years a center where people interested in social ques- 
tions came for discussion, meeting those who were 
dedicated to the service of the Arts. From the very 
first opening of its hospitable doors, when the guests 
were the masons and the carpenters who had built 
the house and the other workmen whoi had decor- 
ated its walls and installed its organ, its atmosphere 
was one of complete democracy, as if the hostess re- 
fused to divide life into compartments, and was more- 
over heeding that old injunction of Thomas a Kempis : 
"Inquire not who spoke this or that but attend to what 
is spoken." 

The dispenser of this constant and inclusive hos- 
pitality not only gave 'a public hearing to the enthu- 
siastic promoter of a new social experiment or to the 
struggling artist who had not yet found his oppor- 
tunity, but many times supplemented her sympathetic 
understanding with financial backing. This was al- 
ways given with a sense on the part of the beneficiary 
that the donor shared his vision and enthusiasm, and 
the artist came into a larger expression and into a 
freer environment without any modification of his 
point of view or lowering of his standard. 



Mrs. Coonley Ward not only "learned from life," 
to use Dante's fine phrase, but constantly moved for- 
ward into a fuller and freer world. Her poems record 
her experiences in this unending journey where she 
retained a spontaneity and tenderness of the heart, 
a certain elasticity, and a spirit of adventure, which is 
too often confined to youth. She makes us grateful 
once more as to one who penetrates "Our earthly dull- 
ness with the beam of stars." 

Jane Add am s 

Hull-House, Chicago 



CONTENTS 

Heredity i 

Aspiration 2 

My Neighbor 3 

Joy 4 

Appreciation 5 

Today 6 

The Vision 7 

Wait 8 

Work 9 

Look Up 10 

Hospitality 11 

Mahomet's Choice 12 

Unforfeited ^ 13 

Thoughts 14 

Alone 15 

Fear Not 16 

Responsibiuty 17 

Repose 18 

Forget 19 

Truth and Error 20 

Riches 21 

Anger and Worry 22 



Behind the Deed 23 

Resist the Devil 24 

Peace c5 

As A Man Thinketh 26 

Heritage 27 

Index 28 

By These Tokens 29 

The Real King 3o 

January 31 

February 32 

March 34 

April 33 

May 36 

June , 37 

July 38 

August 39 

September 41 

October 42 

November 43 

December 44 

Dawn 46 

O Beautiful Day 47 

Spring 48 

My Wish 50 

Apple Blossoms 51 

Spring's Largess 52 

Rose Secrets 54 

My Crab Apple Tree 56 

Heartsease 57 

Prophecy 58 

GORSE 59 

Parting Sltmmer 60 

Oriole 61 

Aster and Goldenrod 62 



Autumn ^3 

The Brook 64 

The Spring 65 

Transition 66 

The Forest Samson '07 

Indian Summer 68 

Renascence 69 

The Prairie 70 

Blue and Gold 71 

The Boom of the Lake "jz 

Cremation TZ 

To A Malachite Geode 74 

Nostalgia 75 

The Tear Jar 76 

The Sunflower Hedge 78 

Firelight "j^ 

Loneliness So 

Eternal Youth 81 

Foundlings 8.? 

Song of the Ship 83 

To AN Ancient Glass Vase 84 

Rosedale's Old Floor 86 

The Lady Barbara 88 

Lord Roslyn 90 

Shakespeare ^ 91 

Shakespeare's April 94 

Lincoln's Wish 95 

Guarded 96 

"Savoir Tout Cest Pardonner Tout" 97 

Crinan Canal 98 

Windermere 99 

The Roofs of Antwerp 100 

Echo Mountain 102 

Saint Cloud 103 



coronado 104 

Give the Best 105 

The New Year 106 

Easter ' 108 

Easter Lily no 

Thanksgiving Song in 

Thanksgiving Day 112 

Love's Evergreen 113 

Possession 114 

Prayer 115 

Hymns 116 

Church Bells 118 

To Correggio's Madonna 119 

Ninetieth Psalm 120 

True Religion 122 

Song of Labor 123 

Achievement 124 

Song of Work 125 

Brotherhood 126 

Labor Song 127 

Message of the Flag 128 

After Seneca 131 

Quartrains 139 

Proverbs 143 



THE MELODY OF LIFE 



My little book, your lines were horn 

In rifts of busy times; 
No travail pains of solitude 

Brought forth these simple rhymes. 
They have no plan, no moral hid, 

No prize for one who delves; 
They came from out a happy heart 

And seemed to sing themselves. 



HEREDITY 

Why bowest thou, O soul of mine, 

Crushed by ancestral sin? 
Thou hast a noble heritage 

That bids thee victory win. 

The tainted past may bring forth flowers 

As blossomed Aaron's rod; 
No legacy of sin annuls 

Heredity from God. 



ASPIRATION 

Ask not for life of ease, but ask 

From strength to strength to grow; 
Pray not to measure out your task 

By powers the past may show; 
But ask for powers to meet demands, 

For love that knows no strife, — 
For crystal vision, tireless hands, — 

A better self for life. 



MY NEIGHBOR 

Tell me the good of my neighbor, 

Make me his lover; 
What there is evil, unaided 

I shall discover. 
Better might I to his failings 

Know only blindness, 
For they may surely be hidden 

Under his kindness. 
Then over errors and weakness 

Draw me a cover; 
Tell me the good of my neighbor, 

Make me his lover. 



JOY 

Sweet Joy on earth is seeking 

To find a happy home; 
He cares not if to palace 

Or cottage he shall come. 
He looks in heart of peasant, 

He looks in heart of king; 
To those who joy are giving 

Sweet Joy himself will bring, 
And by their hearts* warm firesides 

Will sit and smile and sing. 



APPRECIATION 

Did you think the story splendid? 

Did you laugh or did you weep? 
Ere the writer's life is ended 

And his restless heart asleep, 
Give him your appreciation — 

Written line or spoken word — 
It may bring new inspiration, 

A new courage may be stirred. 

Did you think the picture glowing 

With the spirit genius gives? 
Tell the artist he is showing 

That his cherished vision lives. 
It may be his thoughts are turning 

To despair from hope deferred; 
Just your voice may meet his yearning — 

Courage spring from just your word. 

Not to every one is given 

Message of the brush or pen; 
But the artist who has striven 

Draws new strength from fellow men. 
Cast not pearls of praise too lightly, 

Nor repress them; for — who knows ?- 
They may turn, though even slightly. 

All the world from gray to rose. 



TODAY 

Why fear tomorrow, timid heart? 

Why tread the future's way? 
We only need to do our part 

Today, dear child, today. 

The past is written. Close the book 

On pages sad and gay; 
Within the future do not look, 

But live today — today! 

'Tis this one hour that God has given; 

His now we must obey; 
And it will make our earth his heaven 
To live today — today. 



THE VISION 

She walked along a stony way; 
Up-hill her path the long, long day; 
By sharp thorns were her garments torn; 
And yet she smiled from night to morn. 

She did not know the hill was long; 
Her bleeding feet stepped true and strong; 
Her hand unshrinking clasped each thorn, 
And called it rose, of heaven born. 

Because — because there went before 
A dream that brightened evermore. 
She saw the vision of the light, 
She felt no pain, she knew no night. 



WAIT 

All Nature waits the appointed hour, 
The seed to start, the bud to flower; 
But man, impatient, hurries on 
To lose the cause that might be won. 

Calm wisdom ever counsels, Wait ! 
Time solves the problem of the State; 
When seed of righteous cause is sown, 
Trust time to show its flower full-blown. 



WORK 

I AM enamored of work! 

It calls to me in my dreams ; 

It wakens me out of sleep 

Saying: "Nothing is as it seems 

Except work — work that has blessing for you, 

The work that you only can do. 

Arise, O you dreamer, arise ! 

Be glad of your good right hand. 

Be glad that your body is strong. 

For the work that is calling is good. 

It is work that the great world needs. 

Your own work is calling to you." 

I laugh as I hasten to rise, — 

Who am I that I dare to shirk! 

I am called by a voice from the skies 

Singing, "Child of the ages — work!" 



LOOK UP 

Why should'st thou misfortune fear, 

O soul of mine, 
When it may never venture near, 

Or shape define? 
The body faints beneath a load 

It need not bear; 
Look up ! The stars shine on life's road,- 

Stoop not to fear. 



10 



HOSPITALITY 

It is not hospitality 

That bids our friends to revelry. 

Its high ideal we rather find 

In open portals of the mind, 

And corners to opinions free 

With which our own do not agree. 

He who his invitation sends 

To enemies, will find them friends; 

And differing, will still discern 

That each from each has much to learn. 

Then swing the portals of the mind, 
See quickly good, to ill be blind; 
All other welcomes are as naught 
To hospitality of thought, 
And the sweet privilege is not lost 
Of being guests with God for host. 



II 



MAHOMET'S CHOICE 

*1f I had but two loaves of bread," 

Mahomet said, 
"I would sell one that I might buy 
Sweet hyacinths to satisfy 
My hungry soul." 

Great Oriental ! Prophet wise 1 

You taught each one of us who fain 

By body's dole 

Would feed the soul, 

That it is gain 
When hyacinths he buys. 
E'en though he sacrifice 

His loaf of bread. 



12 



UNFORFEITED 

It might have been ! It might have been ! 

The keynote of sharp sorrow! 
Yet is the present hour my own, 

And it may claim tomorrow. 
Whate'er I might have been, I yet 

May be, for God is wilHng, 
The past and future break their chains 

When Now with hope is thrilUng. 



13 



THOUGHTS 

Our thoughts are angels following those we love ; 
Sometimes 'neath shadowy clouds they slowly move, 
Burdened with care, with anxious fear weighed down. 
They carry fetters rather than a crown. 
Again they soar the mountain heights above 
On happy wings of joy and peace and love. 
Laden with hope; they lift the weight of care 
And courage takes the place of dull despair. 

Ah! dear ones all, forgive me when I send 
A thought to you that is not born a friend! 



14 



ALONE 

I SIT Upon a mountain, 

No human soul is near; 
The forests are beside me, 

They are companions dear; 
The gray stones give me greeting, 

Each white cloud smiling sends 
Glad message for our meeting, — 

I am with friends. 

I walk the thronging city. 

And countless moving hordes 
Of people press against me; 

I hear their very words, 
I look upon their faces, 

My heart can only moan, — 
In all these crowded places 

I am alone. 



15 



FEAR NOT 

Fear not because you do not see 
The right victorious and free; 
Its foes will surely turn and flee, 
Their hosts will count minority; 
For God and one must ever be 
A conquering majority. 



i6 



RESPONSIBILITY 

Each man is judge at his own bar 

Receiving sentence there, 
Each man is his own ancestor 

And each his own first heir. 

God sends all good and says — Hold fast! 

To himself give I man, 
His heritage is his own past, 

His future his own plan. 



17 



REPOSE 

When you lie down at night to sleep 
Take off the garments worn by day, 
And do not force your soul to keep 
Her thought-robes on. Lay all away. 
Then shall your rest untroubled be, 
As the repose of infancy. 



i8 



FORGET 

With curling lip and flashing eye, 
With heart that quicker beat 

She said an angry word — but why, 
Oh, why, that word repeat? 

What myriad words we all may say, 
And wish we had been dumb 

Before the angry tides allowed 
Those passion-signs to come ! 

Not yours or mine the stoic's calm, 
The smile, the well-ruled tongue, 

That leaves no room for deep remorse, 
Or tears by heart-ache wrung. 

Ah, happy we with loving friend 

To listen and forget. 
Who would not breathe again the words 

That our own hearts regret. 



19 



TRUTH AND ERROR 

Truth and error side by side 
In one mind cannot abide. 
When truth enters error goes, 
Pain, disease, and all life's woes. 
Strong and joyous is the soul 
Under harmony's control. 
And today, serene and wise, 
We may make earth Paradise. 



20 



RICHES 

Rob me of my flocks and gold, 

Stranger, if you will; 
Rob me of my jewels old, 
Pictures rare and books untold, 

Field and stream and hill; 

Take all these, if you but leave 

Courage of the soul. 
Faith and hope that wrongs retrieve, 
Joy and love that love receive; 
Rich in these I shall not grieve 

For the wealth you stole. 



21 



ANGER AND WORRY 

Anger and worry are two fiends 
Resolved to poison and annoy; 

They undermine the springs of heahh, 
And dry the fountain-head of jo}^ 

Life is a burden when they rule — 
But let brave head and heart unite 

To hurl these despots from their throne 
And set thereon the powers of right, 

And straightway evil tides are turned; 

We are God's own — He takes control ; 
The fiends are banished — right prevails 

And health and joy rule in the soul. 



22 



BEHIND THE DEED 

"Why should I work? Wh}^ should I strive? 

The world is wrong," you say and sigh; 
"My drop of good is swept away 

By tides of evil rising high!" 

Ah, no! The beat of every heart 
That throbs for right is felt afar; 

Each kindly deed, each joyful gift, 
Speeds hope and courage like a star. 

The spirit stands behind the deed, 
In holy thought the dream must start; 

And every cause that moves the world 
Was born within a single heart. 



23 



RESIST THE DEVIL 

Resist the devil, he will flee; 

He hides within thy breast; 
What is he but the ill-used force 

That will not let thee rest? 

He tortures, he afflicts, he goads, 

His scepter is a sting; 
He sits enthroned till thou resist. 

Then flees— and thou art king. 



24 



PEACE 

My heart was once a weary thing, 
My heart was worn and sad, 

And now it can but laugh and sing 
For it is ever glad. 

Life's problems still confront the soul, 
Life's trials still make plaint; 

Yet my heart sees a shining goal 
And never more can faint. 

The world obeys a heavenly plan, — i 
'Tis God who rules — not sin; 

I see the angel in the man 
And all is peace within. 



25 



AS A MAN THINKETH 

"As a man thinketh, so is he." 
Right thought builds true and strong; 

Let passion rule, and he is torn 
By forces turned to wrong. 

For evil poisons. Malice-shafts 

Like boomerangs return, 
Inflicting wounds that will not heal 

While rage and anger burn. 

But good ma}' ever conquer ill, 
Health walk where pain has trod; 

"As a man thinketh, so is he." 
Rise then, and think with God! 



26 



HERITAGE 

Though we may kneel whene'er we pray, 

We are not aliens at bay. 

We are not strangers kept afar 

By frowning face and heavy bar. 

We are not worms from out the dust 

Unworthy of a father's trust. 

No ! we are God's own children dear, 

We love Him and we do not fear. 

He is a king, and princes we. 

Inheritors of royalty. 

His wealth for us He freely spends, 

To us His heavenly crown descends. 

Our birthright we have but to claim 

For He has sealed it with our name. 



27 



INDEX 

The face is index of the soul, 

Thoughts set a record there; 
Man fain would blot the evil out 

By mask he tries to wear. 
But all in vain ! Though he may lie, 

With Nature's every breath 
The truth is told. The face reveals 

The soul in life and death. 



28 



BY THESE TOKENS 

I SAW her in a tenement, 
With her surroundings well content; 
Her matted hair, her ragged dress 
Told their own tale of idleness. 

Yet shabby gown and tangled hair 
She must perforce as symbols wear, 
Because they signify control 
By rags and tatters of the soul. 



29 



THE REAL KING 

It is not the ruler who sits on a throne, 
And calls lordly acres and palace his own, 

Who really is king of the land and the sea, 
And worthy of praises from you and from me. 

'Tis he who can give all the love that they ask 
To dear ones, yet bravely encounter his task; 

Can smile on his neighbor with message of cheer 
And carry a light heart howe'er dark the year, 

'Tis he of ga}'- voice and he of strong hand 
Who truly is king of the sea and the land, 

He reigns over hearts that in homage bow down 
And yield love and praises this hero to crown. 



30 



JANUARY 

The light of Spring is on the hills, 
The breath of Spring is in the air; 

With golden sap the willow fills — 
And yet Spring will not hither fare, 
While yet 'tis January. 

Full well I know bleak winds will sweep 
The hills when Winter's king commands; 

And snow will yet . lie white and deep 
Where now in shallow drifts it stands — 
For this is January. 

And yet, and yet I hear a voice 

Fragrant with promise of the May — 

The voice of Spring, and I rejoice. 
And sing this little roundelay — 
Though this is January. 



31 



FEBRUARY 

Pan's pipes are laid in roots and twigs, 
And through the vines are bent; 

Spring comes with eager lips to press 
The wondrous instrument. 



To hear this heavenly symphony, 
Rise, Soul, from depths of woe! 

Speak, Seer, and make me wise as flowers 
Who well their birthdays know! 

Tell me how Pan makes sun, wind, clouds 

Obedient to his power! 
Tell me why green fills every leaf 

And color every flower ! 

O wise man ! break a stem, and show 

The marvelous liquid green ! — 
A violet's heart, that I may watch 

Its purple-flowing stream I 

Show me the pink-filled fountain where 

Arbutus goes to drink! 
Show me the snows that come to pale 

The lily on its brink! 

Then, O thou wisest man! distill, 

If thou hast secret power — 
That I may learn the magic art — 

The perfume of the flower! 



32 



And tell me why the violet's breath 

The lily never knows ! 
And why the lily's never dwells 

Within the glowing rose! 

Yet, Sage, speak notl These secrets, hid 

In flower, in leaf, in sod, 
Half-fathomed by our human hope, 

Must still be left with God. 



33 



MARCH 

The shortest days, the darkest days, are past; 

The dawn comes early to the eastern skies; 
The morning's brightness floods the world at last; 

Joy welcomes the new day with glad surprise; 
And Nature sings, with sky and lake in tune— 
"On, on to June!" 

O heart, for thee the darkness lies behind; 

The golden sunshine warms thy life anew; 
Joy with each new day's dawning thou dost find 

Gilding gray skies and rippling in the blue. 
Thou too dost sing, with sky and lake in tune — 
"On, on to June!" 



34 



APRIL 

I LEANED from my window one morning 

I heard a low laugh in the air ; 
The birds gave a soft note of warning — 

A moment, and she will be there ! 
Oh, who is this charmer retreating, 

As if our desire she eludes? 
Her raindrops, our plans all defeating. 

Are pattering down in the woods. 
I watch her — the beautiful maiden ! 

The sun brings her wandering smile ; 
The breeze with her whisper is laden, 

The willows her favor beguile. 
Her veil of gray mist on the mountains, 

Her scarf of pale green o'er the trees; 
She breaks all the chains of the fountains, 

They rush down to seek the far seas. 

Her jewels she brings from a palace 

Well guarded by knights of the sun; 
She weeps, and they offer a chalice 

Where colors from teardrops are spun; 
She smiles, and their arrows quick darting 

Through woof of that fabric of dreams, 
The arch of the rainbow is starting, — 

Her smiles and her tears are its beams. 
I lean from my window at evening, 

I hear a low murmur afar; 
And is Earth her jewels receiving. 

Or is it the gleam of a star? 
O April ! capricious yet tender. 

The bridesmaid of Winter and Spring, 
The Summer her homage may render. 

But yours is the gift of the ring. 



35 



MAY 

I HEAR her swift feet coming 
By ways the south wind clears; 
I hear her low voice humming 
The music of the spheres ; 
I feel her warm heart beating 
On Nature's eager breast, 
While snow and ice retreating 
Comply with her behest. 

With gift of gold the willows 
Lift high their welcoming hands; 
By sunshine led, the billows 
Kneel low upon the sands; 
She comes, her power confessing, 
The wind and sun obey, 
And earth receives her blessing — 
The heart of Spring — sweet May. 



36 



JUNE 

Hark! a new comer! 

Lo, it is Summer! 
Pan sets his pipes to her tune; 

Down by the river 

Reeds are a-quiver, 
Waiting — all waiting for June. 

No longer hidden, 

Wild flowers are bidden 
Censers to swing 'neath the moon; 

Night is resplendent, 

Stars are attendant. 
Waiting — all waiting for June. 

Summer insisting, 

Calls to her trysting 
Forests with green's royal boon; 

Breezes compelling, 

Bird carols swelling, 
Waiting — all waiting for June. 

Soft airs perfuming, 

Roses are blooming 
Red in the sunshine of noon; 

Snowy in whiteness, 

Golden in brightness. 
Waiting — all waiting for June. 

White clouds low sailing 

Watch her unveiling, 
River and sea sing her rune; 

Robed in rare splendor, 

Regal yet tender, 
Earth crowns the Summer with June. 



37 



JULY 

Blue haze dims hills against the sk\-, 
The pasture grass is brown and dry, 
The sun shines hot on gray stone wall, 
The corn leaf's edges withered fall, 
The brook is lost among the stones, 
The pine tree holds its dusty cones, 
The garden withers in the heat. 
The flower bed drops its blossoms sweet, 
The locust whirrs, and dragon flies 
Shake out their gauzy draperies ; 
Upon the grass the spider's net 
By drop of dew is never wet; 
The heat throbs with metallic sound 
In stifling air — on iron ground. 
The cattle gather where the trees 
Wait hopeless for a cooling breeze. 
And so the days and nights go by 
In breathless, sighing, hot July. 



SB 



AUGUST 



Ye crystal da3's of August that smile upon the hills, 

And send your sunbeams seeking the perfume summer 
spills, 

The blue skies are your banners, the forests wear 
your shields ; 

The army of the harvest sets vanguard in your fields. 

Warm breezes from the tropics bring waves of throb- 
bing heat, 

The locust's scorching accents the breathless stillness 
greet ; 

The brook with gentle murmur the mossy stone en- 
folds, 

And goldenrod has burnished the scepter that he 
holds, 

The clouds in fleecy whiteness lift battlements that 
rise 

To build a heavenly city upon the radiant skies, 

And high above, white mountains its shining towers 
enclose, 

As if the heart of summer remembers winter snows. 

Ye crystal nights of August, your shadows on the 

lawn 
Grow deep when herald twilight your mystic veil has 

drawn ; 
The aspen cymbals quiver though wind-harps all 

are still, 
And no seolian whisper is heard upon the hill. 
In breathless silence driven across the waiting sk>^, 
A trail of fire for signal, the shooting star-worlds 

fly; 



39 



And while Orion watches their course of rushing 

light, 
They vanish like a vision that thrills the breast of 

night. 
The midnight hour approaches and all the stars grow 

pale, 
As rising to the zenith the moon withdraws her veil. 
Night gathers up the jewels in star-fields thickly 

sown. 
And crowns her queen triumphant upon a silver 

throne. 



40 



SEPTEMBER 

While summer days grew brown and old 
A wizard delved in mines of gold; 
No idler he — by night, by day, 
He smiled and sang and worked away; 
And, scorning thrift, with lavish hand 
He cast his gold across the land. 

The maples caught it ere it fell; 
Witch-hazel turned before its spell; 
The goldenrod's high plumes of green 
Were feathered with its yellow sheen; 
While barberry bush and bitter-sweet 
Wore berries golden as the wheat. 

Still smiling, o'er the trees he wound 
Long russet scarfs with crimson bound; 
He drew a veil of purple haze 
O'er distant hills where cattle graze; 
He bathed the sun in amber mist, 
And steeped the sky in amethyst. 

Low in the East for crowning boon 
He hung the gblden harvest moon; 
And donned his coat of frosty white 
As twiHght deepened into night. 
Then to the roll-call of the year 
September answered, "I am here!" 



41 



OCTOBER 

The trees hold russet tankards 
For Autumn's sparkling wine; 

Ere purple grapes are broken 
Upon the swinging vine 

The breezes bring for token 
The breath of spices fine. 

Afar upon the hillside 
The sumach's torches flame; 

The green of Summer spurning, 
The stately maples claim 

A crimson flag whose burning 
Waves high a golden name. 

The sword of great Orion 
Guards well the cup at night; 

O'er moon and stars in splendor 
Aurora swings her light, 

While Earth again doth tender 
Her potion of delight. 

Oh, press it to your lips, dear, 

October's glowing bowl ; 
O'er perfumed rim it offers, 

With fire of altar's coal, 
A draught whose rich depth proffers 

Elixir for the soul. 



42 



NOVEMBER 

Beneath the hills Hke shepherd roods 

The slender saplings stand ; 
Above the hills November broods 

And lifts a warning hand 
To velvet winds that soft caress 

The forest's silver nakedness. 

The mystic air in shadow folds 

The russet of the hills; 
An opalescent haze upholds 

The cup that actumn fills 
With essence of the harvest wine — 

Elixir, nectar, anodyne. 

The firmament by night is starred 

With golden mystery; 
Its wide expanse is silver-barred 

And locked with hidden key. 
By day the sky though gray its hue 

Reflects the summer's depth of blue. 

O month of nun and acolyte, 
Your draught w^ fain must sip. 

The while your hand lies on your heart 
Your finger on your lip; 

For thus you veil in smile and tear 
The secret of the passing year. 



43 



DECEMBER 

December, dearest month and last, 

The snow a mantle white 
Wraps all that dark and evil is 

Away from mortal sight; 

The winds blow high, the winds blow low, 
The strong waves rise and fall, 

For they the ice-king's masons are 
To build his palace wall. 

They bring Carrara marble white. 

Blue lapis lazuli. 
Translucent blocks of malachite — 

The shadows of the sea. 

They call the sun to set the stones 

With diamond-studded darts, 
They bring a rainbow to o'erarch 

The amethystine parts. 

And so the stately pillars grow. 

And so the turrrets rise. 
The frost embroiders through the night 

A veil of Paradise; 

And only at the break of day 

Is drawn that mystic veil, 
And only craft is wafted near 

When set with dreamland sail. 



44 



Yet golden in the azure skies 

A radiant star doth shine, 
The prototype of herald star 

That shed a light divine 

When brooding o'er Judea's hills 
It lay on night's fair breast, 

While sages worshipping kneeled low, 
And holy sign confessed. 

And so December sets today, 

As first in ages far, 
Upon the skies of Christmas night, 

Messiah's herald star. 



45 



DAWN 

The Light comes in at my window 
To sit in the darkest place, 
And the cool, soft hand of the Morning 
Is laid on my sleeping face. 

The Sun swings open the windows 
Of his palace that looks on the sea, 
And his wonderful garden beckons 
To the Lady of Morn and to me. 

The flowers in the garden are crimson. 
The trees with glory aflame, 
And I am the guest of honor; 
I woke when I heard my name. 

I gaze at the marvelous pageant 
While all the stars grow pale; 
I breathe with the new creation, 
I drink from the Holy Grail. 



46 



O BEAUTIFUL DAY 

BEAUTIFUL day to live in ! 

The hills in their blue veils of haze, 
And the sunshine flooding the valleys 

Where the cattle in quiet graze. 

O beautiful day to work in ! 

The air full of heavenly w^ine, 
And the thought of the v^^orld working with us 

In strength for the conquest divine. 

O beautiful day to love in ! 

Earth an altar, with Nature the priest, 
And the heart like a Moslem low kneeling, 

The face of the soul to the east. 



47 



SPRING 

Who is this that flying comes 

Over hill and valley? 
Forest wood-winds, trumpets, drums, 

At her summons rally. 

When her footsteps softly press 

Rustling leaves and grasses, 
Dwellers in the wilderness 

Hail her as she passes. 

Yesterday was bleak and cold, y 

Frozen snow had drifted ; 
Now the green shafts pierce the mold, 

Banners green are lifted. 

Hark! The signal! Birds appear — 

Bluejays, martins, thrushes. 
Listen! listen! Do not fear! 

Build among the bushes! 

Hear the music of the spheres 

Through the forest ringing; 
Yesterday was drowned in tears, 

But Today is singing. 



Sorrow from the earth is pruned, 
Time marks only pleasures ; 

Nature's orchestra is tuned 
To celestial measures. 



48 



Oh, the radiant skies of morn! 

Oh, the fountains flowing! 
Oh, the joy of earth new born! 

Oh, the bliss of growing! 

Come, ye wood-winds, trumpets, drums, 

To the woodland meeting, 
*Tis the Lady Spring who comes! 

Give her royal greeting! 



49 



MY WISH 

I DO not ask for dazzling gems 

Or mines of shining gold ; 
I do not ask for wealth of land 

In lordly acres told. 

But oh, to own an apple tree, 

And on a winter day 
To see the snow fall on its boughs 

And hide their brown away. 

In spring to watch the swelling buds 

That clustering leave no room 
For boughs whose brown is hid again 

By weight of rosy bloom. 

And then to mark the petals fall 

Until the leaves are seen 
That wrap once more the dark brown boughs 

In summer's royal green. 

At last in autumn when those boughs 

With crimson fruit bend down, 
I could not envy any king 

The glory of his crown. 

For life and love would tell their tales 

Of heavenly joy to me. 
If I could only have my wish, 

And own an apple tree. 



50 



APPLE BLOSSOMS 

The apple tree is white with bloom; 
Through Spring air filters soft perfume, 
And shadows lie in drifts of pink. 

thirsty soul, come here to drink! 

Come! To your weary lips lift up 
A draught that brims in Memory's cup; 
Fragrant with years when, all abloom, 
This tree for children's play made room. 

It roofed with pink their happy hearts, 
And through white rifts sent sunbeam darts; 
They had no thought beyond their glee, 
When sporting 'neath the apple tree. 

Alas ! my steps have wandered far 
From apple bloom and childhood's star; 

1 had well-nigh forgot the day 
Which canopied with flowers my play. 

But years may pass and bring regret, 
Sad thoughts may start the tears, and yet 
My childhood heart returns to me. 
When blossoms forth the apple tree. 



51 



SPRING'S LARGESS 

Nature never is exclusive, 
She is guest at cot and hall 

And her springtime invitations 
Are extended to us all. 

Piercing heavy palace curtains, 
Attics high and cellars low, 

Darting into dingy alleys, 
See her herald sunbeams go. 

Soft air calls the little children, 
With the day's enchanted dawn, 

To the dandelion meadow. 
To the crocus-dotted lawn, — 

Calls them to the shabby sidewalk 
Of the dark, unlovely street, 

Where in games and songs and dances 
Happy circles gaily meet. 

Driving in the park, my lady 
Of Spring's incense drinks her fill; 

Far away, her tenement sister 
Feels the same ecstatic thrill. 

Nature gives the Spring unstinted; 

Blooming tree and perfumed air 
Are for all, and each receiver 

Knows himself a millionaire. 



52 



There's no need for miser's hoarding, 
Or for questions, — where or which? 

What we take does not diminish, 
What we leave does not enrich. 

God and Nature give the springtime 
Without touch of dark alloy; 

There's no bitter in the sweetness. 
There's no sorrow in the joy. 

All the bonds of love are strengthened; 

Humblest peasant, haughtiest king, 
Stand together at her footstool. 

Sharing in the gift of Spring. 



53 



ROSE SECRETS 



"What makes you pink, my pale pink rose? 

Red rose, what makes you red? 
"The earth alone the secret knows," 

The pink and red rose said. 

"She hid us safe within the mold 

Where light was never seen ; 
She kept our slender stems from cold 

And wound their living green, 

"Around the bud for guardian sheath 

She set a calyx bower, 
And folded close, its spires beneath, 

The little baby flower. 

"She sent for pink from seashell's beak, 

For red from sunset sky, 
And on the velvet of each cheek 

She laid its radiant dye." 

"What makes you fragrant, crimson rose? 

Pink rose, what makes you sweet?" 
"The gentle dew the secret knows, 

We learned it at his feet. 



"By night he took the fondest care 

Of alchemy's slow birth 
And mingled the ingredients rare 

In vessels of the earth. 



54 



"He blended subtle odors, till 
They throbbed within the gloom, 

Impatient our fair flower to fill 
With ravishing perfume." 

"I do not understand," I said, 

"The color or the scent" ; 
Smiled then the pink rose and the red, 

"O Mortal, be content. 

"Though we are scattered far and wide 

By every wind that blows. 
No single petal e'er can hide 

Its kinship to the rose, 

"The color's secret is our own^ 

Hid with a miser's care; 
The odor's fountain is unknown 

Elusive as the air. 

"No Galahad his pure ^eyes tura^ 
Where we blush j-ed and pale; 

And yet our perfumed chalice burns — 
The Rose's Holy Grail." 



55 



MY CRAB APPLE TREE 

Green is the grass by the roadside, 

Green is the grass by the lake ; 
Birches and elms are still dreaming 

Of green they will wear when awake. 
But into my face brightly smiling, 

When I look from my window I see, 
Full leaved in the beauty of April, 

My dear little crab apple tree. 

The birds gladly visit her branches. 

And twitter of nests that will sway 
In the shadow of leaf-clusters hidden, 

When April gives welcome to May. 
Then the eager buds push back the leaflets, 

And the pink of the June rose I see, 
For blossoms are blushing in beauty 

On my dear little crab apple tree. 



56 



HEARTSEASE 

The violet lifts its lovely head 

By sunbeams kissed and bathed in dew; 
The lily borrows sheen of snow 

And golden stamens tremble through. 

The honeysuckle blows afar 

Its sweets through trumpet's curving grace; 
The red rose smiles when balmy winds 

Caress her petals' velvet face. 

Days, weeks, and months in silence wrought 
To steep the perfume, tint the flower, 

And bring the perfect blossom here, 
To consecrate to love its hour. 

But there's a flower more fair that needs 
No nurturing of weeks or days; 

Its perfume's sweeter far than that 
Of other flowers we love to praise. 

It never withers, never dies, 

It blooms perennial to delight; 
It laughs at Time who slowly tills — 

For heartsease groweth in a night. 



57 



PROPHECY 

A BROWN bird came from the southern land: 
"Is sign of the summer-time showing?" 

The meadow lark's singing the azure spanned : 
"I hear the anemone growing." 

"Oh, listen," sang he, "to the voice of the mold, 
For life from her bosom is starting; 

The crocus and tulip and h3'acinth bold 
The crust of the winter are parting." 

The meadow lark carolled his herald song. 
The prelude to wild bees humming. 

Farewell to the winter so cold, so long. 
And hail to the summer-time coming! 



58 



GORSE 

There is an olden proverb 
In the land of yellow broom ; 

'Tis that "Kissing's out of fashion 
When the gorse is out of bloom." 

But the gorse's yellow blossoms 
Never seal true lovers' doom — 

There's not a month of all the year 
When gorse is out of bloom. 

So lovers smile their pleasure, 
For frowns there is no room, 

And kissing's aye the fashion. 
For the gorse is aye in bloom, 



5Q 



PARTING SUMMER 

She turns to look upon the royal lands 

That lately were her own; 
There stalwart young October beckoning stands, 

Usurper of her throne, 
Like Midas, turning into shining gold 
The vernal treasures she had left unrolled. 

He calls her: "Summer, radiant Summer, wait; 

I long for your embrace." 
She listens to his pleading; is it Fate, 

Or splendor of his face 
That lures her o'er the meadow? She returns, 
Drawn by the golden fire that in him burns. 

October holds her in his eager arms; 

She lingers with delight; 
Her fragrant breath his frosty pillow warms 

Throughout the starry night. 
By day her sun-born alchemy she pours, 
To woo the spices from his golden stores. 

*Tis the apotheosis of the year. 

The amethystine air 
Conceals in mystery of smile and tear 

Love-philters everywhere. 
Divine October holds the wondrous spell 
That will not let the Summer say farewell. 



60 



ORIOLE 

While summer was smiling, the valley 

A subtle infusion had made 
Of pines, spruces, ferns, fragrant mosses, 

And sweet flowers distilled in the shade; 
And then between daylight and darkness, 

The hour when the heart bows in prayer, 
The dews filtered all this quintessence 

Of odor to perfume the air. 

The fireflies were flashing their lanterns; 

A locust his tambourine whirred; 
A butterfly gleamed in the roadway, 

And never a leaflet was stirred; 
A dragon fly, dressed in her gauzes. 

Sped by with a tremulous hum; 
And standing erect on a tree-trunk 

A woodpecker beat his gray drum. 

Then sounded a call from the branches, 

Sweet and shrill, from the lark's golden throat; 
'Twas answered by robin and sparrow. 

And last came the oriole's note — 
That rapturous song from the tree-top. 

The new moon rose over the hill. 
For the oriole sang to her beauty. 

And the birds of the forest were still. 



6i 



ASTER AND GOLDENROD 

The aster and the goldenrod they blossom side by 

side, 
The goldenrod is bridegroom, the aster is the bride. 
Sun burnishes the bridegroom's coat, paints aster's 

purple gown, 
And sets a shining golden ball to flute her skirts 

upon. 
The bridegroom waves his yellow plume, the fair 

bride curtseys low; 
The soft wind breathes a wedding song; he learned 

it long ago. 



62 



AUTUMN 

The fallow fields in their dark beauty lie 

Close to the tender green 
Of springing wheat; the Summer passes by 

And smiles upon the scene, — 
Lingering where on the southern hillside steep 
Alert and quiet graze the peaceful sheep. 

She lights the brown of every waiting field, 

She lights the vivid green; 
She makes the pallid, rustling cornstalks yield 

A shaft of golden sheen. 
Red lights glow in the forest's russet lines, 
And emerald drifts into the dark green pines. 

No wandering breath of wind comes stealing through 

The trees; none wakes the stream. 
The soft sky, — is it gray or tender blue 

Whereon the white clouds dream? 
The earth, the sky, the air — they are all filled 
With Autumn's mystic perfume undistilled. 

O Love, my Love, come walk upon the hills ! 

Breathe the enchanted air I 
In all the largess lavish Nature spills 

Shall we alone not share? 
Unless at her great altar we may meet 
The heavenly symphony is incomplete. 



63 



THE BROOK 

Tired, lonely, heart-sick, do I come 
To thee, dear Brook, as to a home. 
Upon thy mossy bank I rest 
And touch the ferns thou hast caressed. 
Then with a long and weary sigh 
I let my world of care go by. 

Thou blessed Brook! I give to thee 
Discouragement and misery. 
My heart grows light and tears at last 
Bring balm for all my sorrows past. 

I watch the slender grasses dip 
The nectar of thy breath to sip. 
The fluted lichens, gray and dry, 
Hang over rocks imbedded high; 
The crimson sumach's velvet pole 
Claims as his own the Cardinal's role. 
And all the while upon the stones 
I hear the rippling undertones 
That soothe my heart to quiet rest 
As if upon a Mother's breast. 

And what of thee, to whom I give 
Such burdens? How dost thou receive? 
With shining breast and purling voice 
I hear thee whisper: *T rejoice, 
And for thy gift of sorrow's part 
I give thee back a happy heart." 



64 



THE SPRING 

From the hillside came a spring — 

Lovely, sparkling, dancing thing. 

"I will roof it," Nature said; 

"Oak and maple overhead 

Shall their branches interlace, 

And the periwinkle's grace, 

Carpeting the sheltered place. 

Shall embroider its fair bed. 

Lichens gray and brown and red 

On the slope their cups shall show 

Filled by crystal overflow." 

So the roots of giant trees 

Bent their gray and ancient knees, 

Worshipping beside the spring 

Where birds came to sip and sing. 

Ferns combed out their soft brown hair. 

Silver leaflets waited there 

Just to dip again and glow 

In the water's overflow. 

Then the happy, laughing spring — 

Lovely, sparkling, dancing thing, 

Calmed her ripples into rest. 

Made a mirrof of her breast. 

And the ancient trees she wooed 

Till they left their solitude 

In the upper air, to lie. 

Leaves and branches — even sky, 

Nests of birds, each treasured thing — 

In the mirror of the spring. 

Look! For here today you see 

How they keep her company — 

When winds rest and birds all sing. 

See the picture in the spring! 

65 



TRANSITION 

Before September's knell is rung, 
Above the distant hills is swung 
The twilight's glory, lost too soon, — 
The wondrous golden harvest moon. 
Ere long her gold to silver turns ; 
High overhead her white torch burns ; 
Below, where deepest shadows lurk, 
Sir Harlequin is at his work. 

His palette with the rainbow set, 
His brushes with the night-dews wet, 
He paints the bushes, vines, and trees 
In matchless wizard harmonies. 
October finds the world arrayed, 
As if for royal masquerade. 

From velvet pyramid o'erhead 
The sumach's crimson wings are spread; 
The woodbine's graceful pennants float 
Above the hawthorn's glossy coat; 
From yellow of the mountain ash 
The scarlet berries gleam and flash; 
The rose-hips flame, white seeds unfold, 
Beech, birch, and elm are touched to gold. 

November's russets gently creep, 
To woo the revelers to sleep. 
The outline of the sombre pines 
Defines the forest's sentinel lines. 
No wind the mountain summit sweeps, 
No rain leaf-woven carpet steeps ; 
The tranquil earth her heart beguiles 
With Indian Summer's gentle smiles. 



66 



THE FOREST SAMSON 

Like Samson shorn, the bare trees stand, 
Their branches dark against the sky; 

Their strength forgotten by the band 
Of thoughtless, careless passers-by. 

They wait in silence till the tide 

Of joyous life begins to flow. 
And over branches spreading wide — 

Their sign of strength — the green leaves grow. 

So Samson waited till his hair 

In all its shaven locks grew long. 
And answered to his silent prayer: 

"Thou, Nazarite, again art strong." 

Then called he on avenging heaven; 

Within the temple bowed his head 
And clasped the pillars; walls were riven 

And he lay in the ruins — dead. 

But our great trees, with strength renewed, 

Build forest temples, and the breath 
Of summer winds chants through their aisles 

The prophet's song — There is no death! 



(^7 



INDIAN SUMMER 

November with her amethyst 

Enchants the autumn air; 
Its purple glows where mountains rise, 
With liquid blue it steeps the skies, 

Its red the brooks ensnare. 

Lured by the glow there comes a maid, 

Across the russet fields; 
She throws a kiss to summer's grace, 
She hides the winter's snowy face. 

The wind his homage yields. 

"It is for thee," November says, 
"That I have kept my tryst. 

Thou, Indian Summer queen, shalt wear 

Upon the amber of thy hair 
My royal amethyst." 

The maiden smiles, but in her eyes 

Are depths of tears unshed; 
The purple jewel she may wear; 
Yet near it, tangled in her hair, 

The summer's rose is dead. 



68 



RENASCENCE 

Think not the sun forever hides his light 

When golden day is changed to blackest night, 

E'en though the heart lie in the breast Hke stone 

And though dull eyes must weep, and dry lips moan. 

Be patient with thyself, poor heart, and wait 

For Time to do his work — or soon or late. 

Surely the heavy burdens of despair 

Must lift, or else we could not live or bear 

The agony of loneliness, the loss 

Of the heart's magnet — anchor changed for cross, 

And duty paralyzed as if by shock 

To a foundation that seemed built on rock. 

So has the great volcano's heart been rent, 

Flaming and thundering till its power was spent; 

Then sinking like a child, exhausted, weak. 

Who breathless can no longer move or speak; 

So lies the crater 'neath the ashes gray 

Wherein its fiery heart has burned away. 

A tender breath thrills in the winter air, 

A prophecy of spring to branches bare. 

Snow melts, dust wraps the crater in a veil. 

Rain brings the icy jewels of the hail, 

Sun shines, winds carry wealth of feathery seeds, 

A miracle is wrought that no one heeds. 

Within the crater, like a haze is seen 

The tender beauty of the living green ; 

Grass grows apace, plants rise and flowers bloom. 

The ashy crater is no more a tomb; 

It is a cradle hallowed by the birth 

Of life that brings new beauty to the earth. 

So do Time's gentle ministries impart 
New life imto the ashes of the heart. 



69 



THE PRAIRIE 

All day we rode by high mountains 

By rivers that lingered and curved, 
And night came and lighted her star-lamps 

While still to the westward we swerved. 
But in the gray light of the morning, 

I looked from my windov/ to see 
That mountain and river had vanished 

And the prairies stretched boundless and free. 

Oh, the heart is not chained to a mountain, 

Or moored to a river's fair breast; 
Wherever its dear ones are gathered 

Is the home of its joy and its rest. 
Farewell to you, mountains and rivers, 

I love all your grandeur to see. 
But the vision of home is the sweete5>t, 

The prairie! the prairie for me! 



70 



BLUE AND GOLD 

The scarlet sun in the golden west, 
The silver moon in the azure east, 
And the space between over which I fly, 
Suffused with the colors of the sky. 

wondrous world that glows and pales 
To feast our souls on the intervales ! 

1 look at the east through the lovely screen 
That Springtime weaves of her leafy green, 
And the great round silver moon hangs low 
Over hills that were lately hid in snow, 
But now are as blue as the sky that holds 
This silver moon in its azure folds. 

I turn to look at the golden west, 
At the scarlet sun with its orange crest, 
At the earth — a vision in green and gray, 
Wreathed in pink flowers for the Lady May. 
Then my heart forgets the pain of years. 
And welcomes new joy with happy tears. 

O world of beauty by heaven blest. 

With your moon in the east and your sun in the west! 



71 



THE BOOM OF THE LAKE 

Some long for the mountains and some for the sea, 
Some sigh for the prairies and wilderness free, 
Some dream of the northland and breath of its pines, 
Some pray for the southland with fruit-laden vines; 
But never a voice to my heart doth call 
Like the boom of the lake on the gray sea wall. 

Sometimes 'tis a mirror with clouds on its breast, 
The sun silvers over their cradle of rest, 
The south wind breathes softly the quiet to keep, 
And evening weaves gently her mantle of sleep ; 
Then, standing alone, solemn, stately, and tall, 
A fortress-like guard is the gray sea wall. 

But hark! from the north comes a furious blast, 
The east wind to meet it is hurrying past. 
The waves leap forth madly the tempest to greet. 
The storm-king triumphant sees earth at his feet; 
And far up the north shore there sounds over all 
The boom of the lake on the gray sea wall. 

In lands far away though my footsteps may roam. 
My thoughts swiftly hasten to seek a dear home 
That memory brings in her beautiful dreams 
Where white waves curl over the sun's golden beams; 
Then answers my heart to a rapturous call — 
The boom of the lake on the gray sea wall. 



72 



CREMATION 

When wide my prison gates of life are swung, 
What will you do with mortal robe that clung 
To keep me here? Dear friends, ah, do not lay 
That cast-off garment in the ground, I pray; 
But let the throbbing white heat of the fire 
Leave only ashes on its funeral pyre. 
Then say: "She longed to bring rare beauty here, 
To make the desert blossom through the year; 
And if, perchance, her dreaming was denied. 
The more through death let her be satisfied." 

So, when the fire is out, and ashes white 
Are all the mortal remnant left to sight. 
Then scatter them upon the garden bed 
Where the red rose-tree lifts its lovely head. 
And let it say, as deeper red it glows : 
"She is not dead; she lives within the rose." 



73 



TO A MALACHITE GEODE 

Fair Malachite, our Mother Earth 
In silent darkness gave you birth ; 
Within your geode cradle locked, 
On seas of vapor gently rocked. 
You slumbered till your velvet heart 
Of these gray walls became a part. 

But not alone, dear Malachite, 

You lived, shut out from earthly light; 

To keep you company there grew 

A trio bright and fair as you, 

And darkness wrapped them with a sheen 

That rivals e'en your velvet green. 

Still swung within your shadowed nest, 
The eons brought you — rare bequest ! — 
To show that dreams of human heart 
Cannot imagine Nature's art. 

For when your burnished cradle broke, 
And to the light of day you woke, 
You stood in velvet, emerald bright, 
A miracle in Malachite. 



74 



NOSTALGIA 

Oh, lovely are the western skies, grand are the west- 
ern hills ; 

The wonder of this Golden State my heart with 
rapture fills; 

The ocean beats against Its shore, white sands lie on 
its beach; 

The song of beauty evermore, sea, sky, and moun- 
tains teach. 
And yet, and yet, why did I roam, 
Who always, always long for home 1 

I do not see these western skies or mountains rising 

near, 
I do not see this Golden State or ocean stretching 

here; 
My heart flies eastward, and I gaze on forest, vale, 

and rill, 
The gentle slope of velvet fields, the heaven-kissing 

hill. 
For oh ! though far away I roam. 
My sweetest thoughts are all of home. 



75 



THE TEAR JAR 

A MASTER, working once with air and fire 
Was overcome with sudden, mad desire 
To fix the hues that haunted him in sleep 
And prove that centuries his dream might keep. 

He caught the vision that entranced his heart, 
And left the witness of his wondrous art 
In this rare vase, molded by his deft hand. 
Dipped into sky-hues by the sunset spanned 
And steeped with their pulsating living flame, 
When into gold the blue and scarlet came 
And blended with the purple, violet, green, 
Till all suffused into this matchless sheen. 

Perchance a vivid rainbow, earthward bent. 
Its moment of supremest color lent ; 
Or golden topaz by the sapphire kissed, 
Blushed into ruby, paled to amethyst. 
And with the opal's swift, elusive gleam 
Kindled this flaming substance of a dream. 

All to what end? To lie in silent tomb, 
To hide this splendor in sepulchral gloom; 
This reservoir, enshrining tears and sighs 
Hopeless to meet the gaze of human eyes — 
Yet all for love to lie with moldering frame; 
And all for love, unseen to burn this flame. 

The centuries passed and strangers broke the stone 
That sealed the ashes of the dead unknown. 
Lo ! then revealed by startled rays of light 
This moon of splendor lit a cavern's night. 



1^ 



More eloquent than royal sepulchre 

To tell its tale of beauty o'er and o'er; 

And although silent, evermore to speak — 

Its myriad colors strong where words are weak. 

So speaks its silent voice in beauty's gleam : 

"Men die, but not the artist's glorious dream." 



n 



THE SUNFLOWER HEDGE 

Sometimes in the city I lose the sense 

Of the hurry and rush and the life intense; 

The bricks and the mortar fade away, 

And I see as plainly as light of day 

The blue of skies in the summer's hush, 

A bittersweet screen and a barberry bush; 

And then all the landscape seems to fill 

With the sunflower hedge at the top of the hill. 

Ah, the city shuts down upon life like stone; 
In the midst of its crowding the soul is alone; 
The heart aches with woes that it cannot reach, 
And broods over lessons it cannot teach. 
Then memory wakes, and the city flies ; 
Joy greets the green meadows and azure skies, 
And once more the landscape seems to fill 
With the sunflower hedge at the top of the hill. 



7« 



FIRELIGHT 

Shine through the windows tonight, O fire! 
Shine to guide homeward the feet that tire; 
Cheer thou the traveler on his way; 
Gather the circle at home today; 
Shine on the wanderer! Draw him near; 
Give him a welcome for all the year. 

"Come," says the fire, "my flame shall light 
Path through the forest though it be night; 
As in my welcome I mount the higher, 
Gather around the old home fire; 
For in my flaming a love doth shine 
That lifts the heart to the love divine." 



79 



LONELINESS 

I GO through the streets of the city, 

And sadly my heart makes its moan; 
There is no one to love and to pity, 

Forever I wander alone. 
1 think of the dear home at twilight, 

The air with sweet perfume is damp, 
And the rose vine looks in at the window 

While Mother is lighting the lamp. 

Oh, give me my little home cottage 
Where dear ones around me I see ! 

The loneliest place in the wide, wide world 
Is the street of the city to me. 

What thousands of faces pass by me — 

The troubled, the sad, and the gay; 
But none of them ever seems nigh me, 

And my sad heart is far, far away. 
I hear the faint lowing of cattle, 

I see the church under the hill, 
Alas ! that I only am dreaming ! 

I'm alone in the great city still. 

Oh, give me my little home cottage 
Where dear ones around me I see ! 

The loneliest place in the wide, wide world 
Is the street of the city to me. 



80 



ETERNAL YOUTH 

When swift years come and swift years go 
Shall brow be lined and form bent low? 
Shall feet move slow o'er rugged way, 
Hands lose their skill, head droop in gray, 
And heart grow weary while life's fire 
In ashes burns like funeral pyre? 

No! the soul dauntless may arise 
With quenchless flame in sparkling eyes; 
Through living channels may the blood 
Flow in a quick and steady flood; 
The skilful hand and active brain 
May each day's round of good attain, 
And we from strength to strength may grow 
Because Love's tide doth ceaseless flow. 
For at the fountain of God's truth 
The soul receives eternal youth. 



8i 



FOUNDLINGS 

O CHILDREN, destined from your birth 
To wear the stain of others' sin, 

And guihless pay the penalty 

Of those who walk unbranded, free, 
Has Justice any part herein? 

Is God abroad upon the earth? 

Poor children, who have never known 
A father's love, a mother's care. 

What does life offer in return 

For those lost joys for which we yearn? 
Say, must the darkness be your share 

Wherein ye live and die alone? 

Ah, not of God your cruel brand, 
Man's laws relentless wield the rod. 

'Tis thus that Christ was crucified 

And sinless for the sinful died. 
Are ye not too the Lambs of God 

Who white in His white presence stand? 

Dear children, at God's judgment bars 
All guilt shall lie where guilt belongs. 

And innocent as now in white, 

And pure revealed by heavenly light, 
Yours then shall be the triumph songs, 

And yours the martyr's crown of stars. 



82 



SONG OF THE SHIP 

Oh, the wind may blow 

And the ship may go 
All day in the rolling sea ; 

But when evening falls 

And the sunset calls 
Then at last the ship is free. 

She was wet all day 

With the salt sea spray, 
And she rode like a bird on the Vv^ave; 

She gave no care 

To the vast deep where 
There is many a lonely grave. 

The sunset showed 

Where a ruby glowed 
And an opal lay on the gray, 

While a topaz gold 

Held a sapphire fold 
In the robe of the dying day. 

Oh, the wind may blow 

And the ship may go 
All day in the rolling sea; 

But when evening falls 

And the sunset calls 
Then at last the ship is free. 



83 



TO AN ANCIENT GLASS VASE 

Wondrous glass of ruined Rome, 
Can you call this new world home? 
Was your radiance of green, 
Dashed with blue and golden sheen, 
Caught from rainbows that arched o'er 
Classic lands in days of yore? 

Hidden in a kingly tomb, 
Did you cherish in its gloom 
Fires of color that still burn 
Quenchless in funereal urn, 
Ruby's red and emerald's green, 
Opal, beryl, tourmaline? 
Lost the art that prisoned here 
Secrets of another sphere! 

You were shaped for sorrow's tears. 
Formed to hold through endless years 
Symbols of heart's bitter pain. 
But 'tis well that, sealed in vain, 
You relinquished to the air 
Signs of anguish and despair. 
Leaving beauty here and grace. 
Mute to stand in numbered place. 
Yet in silence eloquent 
Of a past with mystery blent. 

Shut behind these fast locked bars, 
Do you miss the touch of stars 
Shining bright from old-world skies? 
Shining, too, from old-world eyes? 



84 



Your fair beauty once revealed 
That the tomb had long concealed, 
Who with cold heart could resist 
What the light with love had kissed? 

Then no longer lonely, sad, 
Let our homage make you glad ! 
Wondrous glass of ancient Rome, 
Welcome to this new world home ! 



85 



ROSEDALE'S OLD FLOOR 

You do not like me here, Old Floor! 

You creak and groan and grumble sore 

However softly I tiptoe 

Above the beams you cherish so. 

Perchance so long you've silent lain 

That simply tired you now complain; 

Perchance you miss the ancient ways 

And give these sighs for olden days. 

You long for satin petticoats, 

For ruffled shirts and broidered coats, 

For hoops and trains and powdered hair. 

For high-heeled shoes, to trip your stair. 

Your creaks and groanings are in vain. 

You cannot break the plumber's main, 

Or stop the water, hot and cold, 

Coursing through pipes that you must hold; 

And though their slender presence tires. 

You're wedded to electric wires. 

Old Floor, since old, why not be wise, 

And prove me false in my surmise 

That though you think of olden days 

You have not learned their courteous ways? 

Those noble lords and ladies fair 

Were always too polite to swear, 

As you do in your groans and creaks — 

Words that the well-bred never speaks. 

Think of the ancient chivalry! 

Do not disgrace your ancestry; 

And howe'er great your discontent, 

Pray do not make it evident, 

But a respectful silence keep 

When to your neighborhood I creep; 



86 



For though I'm not from days of yore, 

But modern to the very core, 

Your beams, planks, rafters journeyed here 

From ancient forests I revere; 

And as I walk from door to door 

I love you, ancient Rosedale Floor. 



87 



THE LADY BARBARA 

The ship sailed out upon the sea, 

She spread her sails to breezes free, 
Her flag swung from the tall mast-tree — 
She was a lordly craft. 

She sailed into the shining west, 
Each wave tossed high its snowy crest; 
Of all good ships she was the best — 
The Lady Barbara. 

She sailed into the west's wide path 
The Storm King met her in his wrath. 
The wild waves cut a cruel swath, 
And swept her to her doom. 

Oh, then the sea made prey of her. 
The angry sea held sway of her, 
Nor was there one delay of her, 
To feed the sea's revenge. 

He cut her decks with stinging lash, 
Nor could the day his wrath abash, 
Till through the hull sea-fiends could dash, 
Nor was he satisfied. 

He tossed the sails upon the main. 
He laughed to see the deck's red stain, 
To hear the shrieks that were in vain, 
While sailors sank to death. 



Then winds were calm and waves were spent, 
The sea Hke infant innocent 
Spread in the sun his sapphire tent. 
The ship — oh, where was she! 

In fathoms of the deep below, 
Sunk in the caves that mermaids know. 
She lies where wild winds never blow — 
The Lady Barbara. 



89 



LORD ROSLYN 

Beside the pillar Roslyn stood 

And gazed into the gloom 
Where all the Lords of Roslyn lay 
In death's cold silence laid away 

Within their stately tomb. 

The Lords of Roslyn in that vault 

Uncofl&ned lie in state; 
Their armor hides the form of clay 
Slow moldering to dust away, 

While they for Roslyns wait. 

When Roslyns die the doors swing wide; 

Room, there is ever room. 
From the recesses dark and damp 
Winds rush to dim the day-star's lamp 

And petrify the gloom. 

Lord Roslyn's father there was laid, 

Another armored one. 
"Close, close the doors," Lord Roslyn said, 
"Remember, all, when I am dead 

To lay me in the sun." 

The years went on till Roslyn died, 

And then his will was done. 
The ghastly tomb was undisturbed; 
With breath of flower and song of bird 

They laid him in the sun. 



90 



SHAKESPEARE 
1564— April 23—1616 

Spring made a poet's cradle 

Of willows, from a stream 
Whose curves she loved to follow 

In following her dream. 
She wove that precious cradle 

Of colors April brought; 
With blue from skies of azure, 

With white of clouds she wrought; 
Embroidered fleecy borders 

With tender forest green, 
And fringed the snowy blankets 

With rainbow knots between. 
And then, since joy is gladder 

Because it once knew pain, 
She braided in the sunshine 

With drops of silver rain. 

From crevices in mountains 

She took the brown and gray, 
For lights are ^ all the lovelier 

That with the shadows play. 
Gay sunbeams were her shuttles, 

Their silver light flashed through 
The shining rainbow colors — 

The lovely white and blue. 
So, from earth-fields and sky-fields, 

With shuttles gay and wild, 
She wove a fairy cradle 

To hold her poet-child. 



91 



At last, with work completed 

And heart still light and gay, 
She sang her song to cities 

Along the world's highway: 
"Here in this bed," she murmured, 

"A wonder-child shall rest; 
His gift a prophet's vision. 

The pearl of truth his quest. 
The world shall bless his coming 

And hail him poet-seer, — 
Shall smile beside his cradle 

And weep beside his bier." 

Then breathlessly she waited 

And held her April near. 
Because with joy abated 

She saw her poet's bier. 
Behind the mystic shadow 

That wraps the thunder-cloud. 
She knelt within the darkness 

To weave her poet's shroud. 
The shuttles moved so slowly 

Among the strands of pain, 
She scarcely heard the message 

That came in low refrain: 
"Your poet lives forever 

And time can never dim 
The lustre of his glory; 

The world will honor him." 

Spring heard and left the shadow. 
Sunshine about her played ; 

She looked across the ages 
And was no more afraid. 



92 



"My Poet — not mine only — 

No selfish thought I bring; 
You are the world's joy-giver, 

The world will crown you king. 
Yet, since from heights of vision 

Life's lowest depths appear, 
I'll weep beside your cradle 

And smile beside your bier." 

The ages claim their forfeit, 

All nations pay the cost; 
In depths of dark oblivion 

Peasant and king are lost. 
But Spring clings to the memories 

That April always brings; 
The eager world still listens. 

And still her Poet sings. 



93 



SHAKESPEARE'S APRIL 

O WONDROUS month of April when England is aglow, 

Remembering her poet born in April long ago ! 

O wondrous month of April when England's all 

abloom, 
Yet weeps because her poet lies in an April tomb ! 



94 



LINCOLN'S WISH 

"Die when I may, let it be said 

By friends who know me best, 
He plucked a thistle from its bed 
And set a flower in its stead, 

Where'er a flower could rest." 

Lincoln ! that wish was granted thee ! 

Thy hand by God was led 
To pluck the thistle, Slavery, 
And plant the flower, Liberty, 

To bloom when thou wert dead. 



95 



GUARDED 

Soul, never count thyself bereft 
While sun and stars to thee are left; 
God's love enwraps thee o'er and o'er, 
Gives more whene'er thou askest more. 
Life, calm and strong and sweet shall be 
When in each least detail we see 
The Infinite, that everywhere 
The Finite guards with tender care. 



96 



"SAVOIR TOUT CEST PARDONNER TOUT" 

A TENDER proverb often heard in France, 

Woven in allegory and romance. 

Who can know all? — the depths of others' woe, 

The heights of joy where wilder natures go? 

Those who resist temptation know not all 

Its power. Only those know who struggling fall. 

No one can understand a human soul 

Except his own; nor that can he control. 

Is it, dear Christ, because Thou knowest all, 
That Thou dost mark the weakest sparrow's fall? 
That Thou dost share each soul's Gethsemane, — 
Dost see the vision of what each might be? 
For here today even as in days of yore, 
Forgiving Thou dost whisper: Sin no more. 



97 



CRINAN CANAL 

A NARROW stream in graceful curves 
Winds in and out and gently swerves 
Through fertile fields where yesterday 
The mowers cut the fragrant hay; 
Its breath is wafted on the breeze 
To rival odors of the trees; 
For here, with spice of nature's wine, 
Stand dusky forests of the pine 
Lapped by a quiet lake where lie 
Reflected, clouds that fill the sky. 
On through the meadows and by hills 
Where leap and foam the sparkling rills. 
Escaping from the mountain's crest 
To seek the river's quiet breast. 
Our boat, still winding, gently comes 
Close to the doors of cottage homes, 
And children dance and smile though mute, 
While peasants play the slender flute. 
So on and on till sets the sun 
And then our journey too is done. 



98 



WINDERMERE 

When first I saw you, Windermere, 

I thought your lake and tranquil sky 
From all life's sin and doubt and fear 
My soul might purify. 

Your blue hills touched the fair blue sky; 

They called and gently beckoned me; 
*"Tis heaven's gate, do not pass by, 

A welcome waits for thee." 

The holy spot I climbed to seek, 
In ether washed, by pine-breath shriven; 

Yet standing on your highest peak 
I still am far from heaven. 



99 



THE ROOFS OF ANTWERP 

The Antwerp roofs are fluted in a strange and 

wondrous way, 
As they rise outside my window in their ranks of 

red and gray ; 
Their gray steps mount the gables till they meet the 

diimney wall 
Wherein the flues rise higher yet — serrated, dark, and 

tall. 
Beneath the eaves are hollows within the stucco 

while. 
Where the birds nest and sing by day and hide away 

by night. 
And there, above the angles that the Gothic artists 

love, 
I see the great cathedral against the sky above. 
Its splendid tower is sculptured with a poet's dream 

in stone 
That rises, rises, rises — into the blue — alone. 
Gray flocks of birds sweep round it amid shafts of 

matchless grace. 
And the great clock guards the minutes on its shin- 
ing golden face. 
Yet over all that's ancient, — all the roofs and stacks 

and spires, — 
The modern sets a symbol in its tense electric wires ; 
They stretch above the gables, they interrupt the 

towers. 
So slender, so relentless, they care not for the hours 
That centuries have recorded upon the golden clock, 
For with Youth's calm insistence at Time and Age 

they mock. 



100 



But we who visit Antwerp care little for the wires 
Since over them in triumph rise the towers and lofty 

spires; 
And since below them cluster the roofs that Time 

has decked 
Till tiles of ancient beauty are gold and crimson flecked. 
O Antwerp, keep your Rubens and Van Dyck, with all 

their art, 
But let me have your fluted roofs to carry in my 

heart. 



lOI 



ECHO MOUNTAIN 

Sweet fields are decked in living green — 
Would'st find them, dear? They lie 

Where Pasadena nestles 'neath 
The blue arch of the sky. 

And where San Gabriel's vineyards lift 

The fruitage of their vines, 
And offer purple challenge to 

The green of mountain pines. 

The white clouds play in fields of sky, 

Their shadows come and go 
Where sunshine smiles upon the slopes 

Of happy fields below. 

The giant mountains tower above 

While ranging low across 
The little hills are sentinels 

In robes of velvet moss. 

The condor rests his eager wings 
On soft winds sweeping high; 

The mountains drape their misty veils 
Athwart the deep blue sky. 

Sweet fields are decked in living green — 

It was a prophet's word 
Fulfilled where Echo Mountain shows 

This vision of the Lord. 



102 



SAINT CLOUD 

O LOVELY waters, pouring down 
To stairway's foot from stairway's crown, 
Coming from mouths of creatures mild, 
Coming from mouths of dragons wild, 
From urns, from spouts on every side, 
Over the stairways deep and wide! 

At first all slowly rippling o'er 
The stony sides and stony floor, 
Then sparkling, flying, hurrying past, 
Lest some small eddy should be last. 
In sheets, in clouds, in veils of mist, — 
Here in the shade and there sun-kissed,- 

hurrying, rippling, singing throng. 
To Naiad queen do ye belong? 

Or is it Undine that ye hide 

In your white veils — a mystic bride? 

1 ask, but ye do not reply, 
O lovely waters, hurrying by! 



103 



CORONADO 

The silver sea, the silver sea, 

It ripples in the sun, 
And far away, across the bay, 

The sea and sky are one. 

The crescent beach rounds out to reach 
Point Loma's snow-vi'hite tower. 

Where through the night a crimson light 
Is flashed with warning power. 

Afar and near, from point to pier, 

The crescent curving o'er 
In stars aflame doth write its name 

On Coronado's shore. 

The silver sea, the silver sea. 

Today although we part, 
The blue skies o'er this crescent shore 

I keep within my heart. 



104 



GIVE THE BEST 

True art belongs alike to small and great, 
It knows not bonds of empire or of state, 
Finding a place beneath cathedral dome, 
Or lingering in the quiet walls of home ; 
Though stately palaces may not affright, 
It seeks a lowly cottage with delight. 

Then why shut out from universal place 

The heavenly light that shines from true art's face? 

Why offer subterfuge and mask and sham? 

Why say: "You are not connoisseur — I am"? 

A noble art cannot thus be deceived. 

Ourselves and others surely are bereaved 

When offering what the people's choice we name, 

With commonplace we quench a holy flame. 

No, when the call is sounded loud for bread 
Think not unscathed to offer stones instead. 
Art for the whole wide world is God's bequest; 
Then for the people's service give the best. 



105 



THE NEW YEAR 



The Old Year groans in travail pains, 
Death's touch her snowy pillow stains; 
Above her bend the barren trees, 
About her sweeps the icy breeze. 
Old Year, with all your sin and pain 
Why not die childless? Life is vain! 
The Old Year turns, "Beware, beware 1 
Your blind eyes only see despair. 
Yet joy and gain and hope are there." 



Old Year, Old Year, your strength is spent, 
Die childless, and be well content 
That no new year in pride of youth 
Bids falsehood fall by sword of truth! 
Die, for the world were better so, 
Since fools but come that fools may go ! 
"I bear a son. Though I be dead, 
His conquering army shall be fed 
By marshalled days and hours," she said. 



"He shall have gain where I had loss; 
He shall wear crown where I bore cross ; 
His eyes with victory shall flash 
Though slavery faded mine to ash. 
Time shall his noble hosts recruit. 
His palms, of my defeat be fruit. 

My son shall reign. His signet ring 
The loyal from afar shall bring. 
Though I be slave, he shall be king." 



io6 



The child scarce hears her dying sigh; 
He wakens with a moan and cry. 
Is this the boy that shall be king — 
This pallid, weak, and shivering thing? 
Is he to rule the months and days 
Who cannot speak or scepter raise? 
Yes, for his bed is emblem fair 
Of Peace, whose banner in the air 
Gives Hope's white signal to Despair. 



He shall disperse the hosts of greed. 
Shall show enough for all men's need. 
Shall prove to Earth's remotest end 
Each man is neighbor, each is friend. 
Pledge, Men and Brothers, give the seal 
That joins your hands for common weal! 
Old Year, lie quiet on the snow. 
The New Year doth your thought outgrow. 
His scepter needs no scourge of rod, 
Love waves his sign from cloud to clod, 
And Love makes men the Sons of God. 



107 



EASTER , 

' . . . \ 

Look up, Beloved, where the hills are singing [ 

Their farewell to cold Winter's ice and snow. ; 

See where the green-clad forest trees are swinging I 

Their fragrant censers slowly to and fro, — } 
For Spring is born. 

So let thy heart, with the dear earth rejoicing, 
To darkness and to sorrow, bid farewell; 

Sing with the hills, Spring's resurrection voicing, 
And let thy song Hope, Joy, and Love, foretell 
On Easter morn. 



II 

The Winter's ice and snow are gone, 
Flowers bloom, soft breezes blow; 

The waking earth laughs in the sun 
And all the world's aglow. 

Tent not thy soul on Sorrow's field, 

Her hosts are all forlorn; 
To Love and Hope the victory yield 

At break of Easter mom. 

Ill 

The glad earth wakes in beauty 
To keep her tryst with Spring; 

Soul, fail not in thy duty 
Joy's offering to bring 
On Easter day. 

io8 



IV 

Gone are the Winter's ice and snow, 
The south wind bids the bluebird sing; 

Sap in the willow is aflow, 
The world stands at the gate of Spring. 

Soul, art thou Winter-bound by grief? 

Enter the garden of the Spring! 
Earth's resurrection brings relief, 

Joy be thine Easter offering. 



109 



EASTER LILY 

O GOLDEN-HEARTED virgin, 

Madonna of the flowers, 
Wherever thou dost bourgeon 
Thy purity is ours. 

Thou shinest on the altar 
Beneath cathedral dome; 

Thy message doth not falter 
Upon the shrine of home. 

Oh, teach us all the duty 
That lifts us o'er the clod, 

In truth and love and beauty 
To live and bloom for God, 

His holy name confessing 
To work where'er we may, 

And thus to bring His blessing, 
Eternal Easter Day. 



no 



THANKSGIVING SONG 

O God, for all this fruitful year hath brought 
For every day with countless blessings fraught, 
For mines of earth, for all earth's fertile fields, 
Golden with plenty that the harvest yields, 
We thank Thee. 

For all the blessings that the past hath given, 
For all the signs to show that we have striven 
To walk with Thee through all the passing years, 
For joy and sorrow, for our smiles and tears. 
We thank Thee. 

For all the strength from holy sources drawn, 
For all the joy in ties of kindred born. 
For all the friends whose love is tried and true, 
For love itself, sweet love — the old, the new — 
We thank Thee. 



Ill 



THANKSGIVING DAY 

Lord, Thou alone who searchest hearts canst know 

How my heart longs 
Silence to break and gratitude to show 

With loving songs. 

I walked as blind, my face to earth cast down. 

Thou saidst : "Arise ! 
The glorious firmament is all thine own. 

Claim thou the skies !" 

Thy brooding care sweet gifts betowed on me, 

Love, home, and friends. 
Ah, well may I, dear Lord, give thanks to Thee 

Until life ends. 

Not on one da)'' alone shall praises sound 

Along my way; 
Each sun-spanned arch of all the year is crowned 

Thanksgiving Day. 



112 



LOVE'S EVERGREEN 

What is the Christmas gift that I shall send, 

Beloved friend, enshrined within my heart? 
Shall silks and pearls in its embroidery blend. 

Shall it show wonders of the goldsmith's art? 
Or shall I look across the fair blue lake 

And in its weaves read tales so old, so new, 
That with its thought the heart's quick thrill doth 
make 

The day more beautiful, the lake more blue? 

Ah, love is written here and everywhere. 

Until it seems that all the world must read 
The story that the birds and wald bees share 

And sing within the trees and on the mead. 
Day pencils it on clouds in dazzling white, 

Night letters in her golden stars its name, 
And never chime of bells the ear doth smite 

But still that song of songs rings out the same. 

Dear friend, this is my gift for Christmastide — 

The gift of love to lock within your heart, 
The gift of love to scatter far and wide 

Till it becomes of every day a part. 
So may God's blessing be on holly wreath 

And in its red of clustering berries shine, 
Until on skies above and earth beneath 

Sweet joy and hope are set in light divine. 

Take then this gift unseen and yet most dear, 
The Christmas evergreen for all love's year. 



"3 



POSSESSION 

Man need not seek for joy or sweet content; 
To find those treasures he was never meant. 
He carries them secure within his heart, 
And none can steal them, since he cannot part 
With their dear presence — save when he shall say: 
"I give ye up, and walk in darkened wa}^" 



114 



PRAYER 

Father, I long to hear Thy word, 

And listening, bow. 
I care not that my voice be heard, 

But oh, speak Thou! 
Let me espouse my comrade's cause 

Till it be won; 
Not coveting the world's applause, 

But Thy "Well done !" 
And working, may I ever sing 

A song of cheer; 
And loving, may I ever bring 

Thy love more near. 
So, losing sight of fear and strife. 

Let me be now 
Thy loving Child, and through my life, 

Dear Lord, speak Thou! 



115 



HYMNS 



Lord, far beyond desert of mine 
The love that on my Hfe doth shine, 
That shelters me in darkest night, 
And blesses every morning light. 

The changing seasons round the years, 
Joy brings her smiles and grief her tears ; 
But whether smiles or tears prevail, 
Thy boundless love doth never fail. 

Oh, keep my spirit undefiled ! 
Help me to be Thy trusting child! 
And on this loving heart of mine, 
Lord, let Thy love forever shine ! 

n 

O HEART of love, thou broodest o'er 

This little world of ours, 
Revealed in sky, in sea, in shore, 

In forests, streams and flowers; 

Yet, O thou heart of love divine! 

Until thy face I see 
Reflected in this heart of mine, 

I live apart from thee. 

When I love those who need love's grace. 

Not those who love deserve. 
Content to take a lowly place 

And joyfully to serve, 



ii6 



Then will love's tide unfailing flow 
From out this heart of mine ; 

And every hour thy grace will show, 
O heart of love divine ! 



Ill 



Lord we rejoice that thou dost bend 
From heaven above to be our friend ! 
Thou draw'st the curtain of the night, 
And day gives earth for our delight. 

For us the mountains lift their heads, 
Swift rivers flow o'er rocky beds 
And torrents leap from fields of snow 
To laugh in valleys green below. 

Yet, Lord, beyond all other gifts, 
The thought that every burden lifts, 
Is that Thou dost with dear love bend 
From heaven above to be our friend. 



"7 



CHURCH BELLS 

When long ago the church bells rang 

One song to me they ever sang : 

"Peace, peace on earth — to men good will !" 

It rang o'er city, valley, hill — 

"God is above and all is well !" 

It rang in carols and in knell. 

Today I hear the church bells ring; 

But ah, far other words they sing. 

How dare ye come in velvet here 

To worship God and call him dear, 

When close beside your very door 

Are set the hovels of the poorl 

You feast — they starve; you smile — they weep; 

You dream the while they cannot sleep. 

The God of Sabaoth doth heed 

The cry that tells His children's need. 

"I cannot hear your voice," He says, 

"For wails of anguish drown your praise; 

I cannot see knees bent in prayer. 

For clouds of suffering fill the air. 

I called to you, sick, hungry, faint, 

You listened not to my complaint. 

'When saw we thee,' your voices plead, 

"An hungered, Lord, and did not feed?" 

"Go !" saith the heavenly voice, "for 3'e 

In slighting these have slighted me. 

For inasmuch as ye have left 

The least of mine of joy bereft. 

Ye so have shut your Lord away 

And to hell's night turned heaven's day." 

The church bells ring and ring: Depart, 

I know ye not, ye hard of heart ! 



118 



TO CORREGGIO'S MADONNA 

In the Uffizi 

Madonna, warm with adoration bending! 
Mother, with love thine ardent hands extending 

Above fair Jesus on his bed of hay! 
Not dearer could He be in cradle molded 
By sculptor's art, or in rare purple folded; 

The world's tomorrow — He is thine today. 

The darling! Other mothers see him lying 
Like their own babies — smiling, sometimes sighing, 

Or dreaming of the mystic long ago. 
"He's like my Guido," says fair Lucia lightly. 
Thou dost not answer, but withdrawing slightly 

Ponderest the visions that they cannot know. 

The sunbeams flicker, and their shafts are setting 
A halo o'er His head ; but in its netting 

Thy startled eyes behold the martyr crown. 
To pierce thy heart its thorns are not forbidden, 
Nor can the symbol from thy love be hidden; 

The secret weighs thine exultation down. 

But look! The wondrous child at thee is smiling, 
From eyes and heart the deadly pain beguiling; 

Forgotten now all sorrow life hath given. 
See in the clouds the holy censers swinging! 
Hark to the song celestial choirs are singing! 

Thy darling child is Lord of Earth and Heaven! 



119 



NINETIETH PSALM 

Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place 

Through generations past; 
Before the mountains were brought forth, 

While earth was chaos vast, 
Thou art from everlasting known 
To everlasting — God alone. 

A thousand years within Thy sight 

Are but as yesterday 
When it is past; or like a watch 

That measureth night away. 
As with a flood Thou carriest them, 
They are as sleep that falls on men. 

Like grass are they, that flourishing 

In morning hours is found; 
At eventide it is cut down 

And withereth on the ground. 
Thine anger doth our souls consume, 
Thy wrath doth fill our hearts with gloom. 

Our days are three-score years and ten ; 

Like oft-told tale those years. 
Though strength should four-score number them, 

They are but work and tears ; 
For life is soon cut off, and then 
We fly, and know not where or when. 

So teach us, Lord, to count our days 

That we find wisdom's heart. 
Return! with mercy satisfy! 

Let gladness be our part. 
According to our time of fears, 
May we rejoice through all our years. 



120 



Unto Thy servants' eyes, dear Lord, 

Let all Thy work appear; 
Thy glory to their children show, 

That love may conquer fear. 
Our handiwork do Thou make strong, 
And let Thy beauty be our song. 



121 



TRUE RELIGION 

God is good and He demands 
Only goodness at our hands, 
Nor a substitute will bless 
For His children's righteousness. 
Would we character attain 
We must first desire its gain, 
And we gladly must receive 
Help from God, in Him believe. 
Church's service ought to be 
Not a duty whence we flee, 
But the opening of the soul 
Unto God's divine control. 
Ritual is vain unless 
It promoteth righteousness. 
We serve God, and only then. 
When we serve our fellow men, 
To love mercy, justice do, 
To walk humbly, ever true — 
This keeps bright the altar fires, 
This — this only — God requires. 



122 



SONG OF LABOR 

Come sing the song of labor 

And sing with joyful heart, 
For man to man is neighbor 

Though homes be far apart. 
The future we are molding 

Prophetic as we sing, 
And fruitful earth is holding 

The gifts that she will bring. 

Not truly rich the idler, 

Nor poor who shoulders hod, 
For poor and rich are ever 

As one in sight of God. 
He sees in every creature 

The angel of His plan, 
And reads in every feature 

The noble heart of man. 

Come sing the song of labor, 

For each must do his part, 
No use for gun or saber 

When love is in the heart. 
Then friendly hands outreaching 

Shall own a brother's worth, 
And give the wisest teaching — 

'Tis love that rules the earth. 



123 



ACHIEVEMENT 

Let me not circumscribe my work as for myself alone, 
The little me who dwells within this body called my 

own! 
It is not mine, except as God has lent it to be used 
In service of His children. Never let it be abused 
By narrow limitation. I and mine? What are we 

then 
But part of that great universe we call the world of 

men? 
We think too much of self, our happiness, our pain, 

our grief — 
As if the constellations centered in this one belief 
Of our importance. Use a larger vision, and we see 
How small a fraction of God's universal plan are we. 
Then work! It matters not if glad or sad our course 

be run. 
So we have helped the world's work on, our little 

part well done. 



124 



SONG OF WORK 

The man who toils is truly king, 
The king of work and play; 

His thought is free from every sting 
That tells of idle day. 

His song rings over hills and dells, 

He holds a ruler's rod; 
The idle man his birthright sells. 

For work is blest of God. 

When labor holds its own true place 

Controlling work and play, 
Freedom 'twill give to every race 

And joy to every day. 

O happy man, of work the king, 

Look up and see unfurled 
The flag of freedom ! Sing then, sing ! 

For labor rules the world ! 



125 



BROTHERHOOD 

Do we scorn our fellow man? 

Then we do not know him; 
We may call ourselves above, 

Yet may be below him. 

When we learn his fortitude, 
Learn his human kindness, 

Only then we scourge ourselves 
For our wilful blindness. 

Man in masses we may scorn, 

Bitterly reproving; 
When we meet him face to face, 

Then begins our loving. 



126 



LABOR SONG 

Man worked for self when earth was young 

And then he loved his own. 
But feeble was the voice that sung 

That dreary monotone. 

The hand that works for self grows weak, 

The tides of life run slow ; 
Who thrives must others' welfare seek 

And love for others shov/. 

Today afar on prairie lands 

The farmer's arm is strong 
Because the labors of his hands 

To all the world belong. 

And as he cuts his golden wheat 

And sees the swathe laid down, 
He sings, "The world my bread shall eat 

And love the gift shall crown." 



127 



MESSAGE OF THE FLAG 
1900 

My country, your dear flag was first conceived 
In love, with throbbings of a patriot heart ; 

With prayer that, from a tyrant yoke relieved, 
That flag in tyranny should have no part. 

Its red stood for the love of liberty, 

Its white for purity of thought and deed; 

Its stars of hope were sown to multiply 
Their golden lamps on a celestial mead. 

Then, when that sacred flag was first unfurled. 
The cardinal winds swept out the colors new, 

And floated in the face of all the world 
The message of the red, the white, the blue. 

"Hail ! hail ! oh, hail !" our patriot fathers cried, 
"Hail, Freedom's symbol ! Come, all ye oppressed ! 

Your prayer for succor shall not be denied, 
Come, lay your burdens on the New World's breast !" 

Ah, then they gathered from the lands afar; 

Sweet joy flamed up from ashes of despair. 
And like the wise men led by Bethlehem's star, 

Hope's signal led them into Freedom's air. 

O blessed land, whose young arms opened wide, 
Whose great heart ever gave its welcoming word ! 

What can it mean today that at your side 
Men beg for liberty, and are not heard? 



128 



Does not that cry your early cry repeat, 
Ye pilgrims landing on a barren coast? 

And can your children aid in the defeat 
Of brave men, when your courage is their boast? 

Ah, men may fight with many a reason given — 
For king or queen, on gold or conquest set; 

But when they fight for God and home, then Heaven 
Reloads the gun, and points the bayonet. 

For life counts not, if home is to be lost; 

Through flames of fire the martyr hails his God. 
Better to die a free man than at cost 

Of freedom live, a slave, a serf, a clod. 

Better to die with God, than live to see 
His holy laws transgressed. His love unknown; 

Better relinquish Ufe, than live to be 
An alien, though upon earth's proudest throne. 

My country, 'tis not thou! Thou art betrayed 
Most wickedly for lust of gold and power. 

Rise, patriots, rise, and never be dismayed! 

Strike for your altars! 'Tis th' appointed hour! 

My country, speak, but not through lips of greed, 
Say that your flag still stands for liberty; 

Call to the helpless, ask not race or creed; 
But answer to their cry: "Ye shall be free!" 

Great God of battles, give the wrong defeat. 
E'en though our sons upon the altar die ! 

Pass, smoke of cannon, turmoil of retreat. 
Cease, groans of death; hush, hush the mourner's 
sigh ! 



129 



Give victory to right, and let the few 

Confuse the many who would make them slaves ! 
Thou God of peace, prove to the world anew 

'Tis not Thy will that men fill soldiers' graves! 

My country, for your heroes take not men 
From battlefields v/hose hands are red with blood; 

Dismount your cannon, sheathe your sword, and then 
Raise high the flag of peace on holy rood. 

Take those for heroes, and their names enshrine, 
Who hear with quickened ear each cry of pain; 

For whose self-sacrifice and love divine 
No human being ever cried in vain. 

Blow, wdnds, and bear upon the wings of peace 
Your message of good- will across the sea! 

Oh, say, that war in every land must cease! 
Float, flag of freedom, till the world is free! 



130 



AFTER SENECA 



Should one bestow on us a house replete 

With marbles, paintings, gildings, broideries fair, 

We fain would offer thanks obsequious. 

In obligation for a gift most rare. 

Yet must it stand at mercy of the flood, 

Fire, wind, and storm, or countless accident. 

It may rise fair today, tomorrow lie 

Low on the ground and eat oblivion's dust. 

Yet sleep we sweet 'neath heaven's canopy, 

The globe of earth the place for our repose; 

The wondrous heavens spread out a spectacle 

Whose glories the wide firmaments disclose. 

And shall we say no word of thanks for all 
Life gives beyond our power to understand? 
Whence have we breath, heat, light of morn and eve? 
Whence have we grains and fruits and jewelled 

mines? 
Whence comes the blood pulsating in our veins? 
Whence have we growth and years and reason's mind? 
The seed of everything is in itself ; 
God's blessing calls it from the dark to life— ' 
"The work of Nature" Epicurus saith. 
Why not the work of God? Name Him yourself! 
Say Jupiter, Almighty, Thunderer, 
Creator and Preserver. Call him Fate, 
Or Bacchus, Father of us all. Or say 
Great Hercules Invincible ; perchance. 
Wise Mercury. Look ye this way or that. 
Call him by whatsoever name ye will, 



131 



Ye shall not fail to find him. He is here, 
There, everywhere. He worketh day and night, 
He doeth His own work and doeth well. 
He giveth freely, and He looketh not 
For due return. 

Aye, I will call Him God, 
And worshipping give ceaseless thanks to Him. 
Call ye Him what ye will ; I call Him God — 
God of the heavens, the earth, the universe. 
And God of me, who glory, giving praise 
That He created me^ — to call Him God. 



II 

The great man on a precipice doth stand; 

Prosperity doth hold him by the hand. 

Yet let him lose but fraction of his poise, 

He falls below upon oblivion's sand. 

And naught is heard but echo's empty noise, 

While high, unchanged, the precipice doth stand. 

Ill 

Too late comes the gift that is won by the asking, 
Too costly the prize our petition is tasking; 
Naught costs us so dear as what's bought by our 

praying. 
And only for Heaven our prayers we are saying. 
In secret we choose our petition to offer. 
And love most the gift that the giver doth proffer. 
Then give as you wish, and be blest in receiving. 
Give cheerfully, quickl}'-, no thought of retrieving; 
Denying is surely next door to demurring. 
And bitter's the gift that is slow in conferring. 



132 



IV 

Vain-glorious Alexander boasted oft 
That none in benefits could him excel. 
Then he met one who dwelt within a tub, 
And, richer far than he who would compel 
Acceptance of a gift, said ever : "Nay, 
I am content. Naught, king, canst thou bestow; 
Naught would I give to thee, so go thy way ; 
Such wealth as I possess thou canst not know." 



V 

What we pursue with much hazard, 
Win by our blood's expense, 
Breaking with faith and with friendship' — 
These are but gifts of the sense. 

We lose the true use of riches 
When anxious to gain and to hold; 
For as children cry out for apples, 
So old men cry out for gold. 

The children of clay make their houses. 
Old men build of marble and stone. 
The works of the old show no progress — 
The children's mistakes are their own. 

On the surface of earth God has given 
To man many gifts that are good ; 
But iron, gold, silver are hidden, 
And gained but with slaughter and blood. 



133 



A torment is money, the greater 
In possession than in its pursuit. 
The flower may allure with its beauty, 
Yet poison may lie in its fruit. 

Must the chariot of Phoebus be golden? 
The best time, the golden age? 
Nay ! nay ! 'tis a vision deceitful, 
But it never deceiveth the sage. 

For the man who is pushed from the highway 
May be truly more happy than he 
Who walketh in pride of possession, 
And hiding his chains says "I'm free." 



VI 

Megara taken, then Demetrius asked 

Of Stilpo: "Friend, what hast thou lost, I pray?" 

"Naught," the philosopher replied, "though I 

Have made my way through wreck and fire and blood. 

And know not where my wife and children are, 

Or where my fortune, country, friends, or home, — 

Yet am I still at peace though flames destroyed 

My native tov/n — though naked I escaped. 

For I have saved my goods," said he. "Justice 

And courage, prudence, temperance; what more 

Had I but transitory blessings, — wealth 

That easily might fly within an hour? 

I have saved all my goods. I have saved all !" 

Thus answered Stilpo to Demetrius. 



134 



VII 

I AM wise, and love to dwell 
With a beggar or a prince. 

One shall never make me proud ; 
One shall never make me wince. 

I can sleep as sound and well 

In a barn as in a hall; 
I can lodge on bed of down 

Or on hay in manger stall. 

Pain and pleasure both suffice; 

I might wish the game I play 
Easier were to win, and yet 

I accept it either way. 

Were I prince imperial 

I might choose to conquer, but 
I would bear the selfsame mind 

In my conqueror's chariot. 

Easy 'tis to trample what 
People covet, people fear; 

Some v/ill laugh upon the wheel, 
Jest when fire the flesh doth sear. 

Fortune cannot rule the man 
Who is constant in his mind; 

He is wise and knows no ill, 
Sees where fools are ever blind. 






VIII 

All great men stand in noble fortitude, 

In honor, and in courage, side by side. 

Leonidas with his three hundred men 

Would hold Thermopylae 'gainst Xerxes' force, 

"Come, fellow soldiers, dine we here," said he, 

"As if we in another world should sup." 

Brave Caeditus before a battle said : 

"We fain must go, my soldiers all, but yet 

It is not needful that we should return." 

When conqueror at Pharsalia, Caesar took 

The cabinet of Pompey, knowing well 

It held the letters that would trul}^ tell 

Who were his friends, and who his enemies ; 

Yet burnt it still unopened. And again 

When Alexander knew base Philip's plan 

To poison him, he held in his left hand 

The letter of advice, and in his right 

The cup he drained, while within Philip's hand 

He laid the letter calmly, without word. 

Thus great men stand in noble fortitude. 

In honor, and in courage, side by side. 



IX 

Noble examples stir to noble deeds. 

Be wise ! withdraw thyself from evil doers. 

A rocky ground will harden horses' hoofs ; 

Soldiers are made from hardy mountaineers; 

Miners make pioneers. All discipline 

The spirit fortifies. Those best instruct 

Who use their lives to prove their words are true. 

Bad air endangers health and worthy men 



136 



Alay fall through bad example. Hannibal, 

Though conqueror at arms, was overcome 

By pleasures and brought low. The man who bears 

His foes within his breast, hath harder task 

To conquer than in fight on battlefield. 

H I give way to pleasure, I must yield 

To labor, anger, poverty and grief. 

Good company brings better thoughts than these, 

And meeting with the wise delights the soul. 

I will take care with whom I eat and drink, 

For without friends a table is a stall. 

Writing does well, but conversation's best. 

Cleanthes had not drawn so true to life 

Great Zeno, but by watching day and night. 

Let me be careful of my company; 

For I go not abroad, and home return 

The selfsame man; something is discomposed, 

Some passion calmed gets head, or virtue's gained. 

Like bodies, minds grow tender and relapse 

When they encounter airs that are impure. 

Therefore with wisdom choose thy company — 

Noble examples stir to noble deeds. 

X 

God bids us all plose by His side to walk, 
Not to stand facing Him as if arraigned 
Before our judge, with body bending low, 
But joyful, as the /children of a king 
Prince-like to tread at our dear father's side; 
His wealth of love and peace and joy our own, 
Life set to His in perfect harmony. 
Thus as companions, children, helpers, friends, 
Erect and glad to meet the world with Him, 
Doth He invite us by His side to walk. 



137 



XI 

King Archelaus bade great Socrates, 

"Come to my palace there to visit me." 

He answered, "Nay, for I will never take 

What I cannot requite; for I am free." 

Let the world judge which were the greater gift, 

That of the sage, or King of Macedon! 

For Archelaus needed Socrates 

Who wore the laurels that his wisdom won. 

The king would fain the sage's secrets know, 

Would learn of life and death from his own lips, 

Would win a friend. What gift with that compares? 

Who gives his love, the wealth of heaven shares, 

And friendship that the sage could well bestow 

Left all the monarch's riches in eclipse. 



138 



QUATRAINS 



When before Thee, Thou righteous Judge, I stand- 
My deeds, both good and ill, on either hand — 
Oh, summon those who love me, from earth's ends, 
And then in mercy judge me by my friends. 



II 



When Memory, rich in treasures, 
With her shining jewels plays. 

Her sweetest smiles are for the gems 
Set in the dear old days. 



Ill 

Joy is the oil within life's lamp. 
And if it fail the light grows dim. 

Whoso shall lose it soon will find 
The darkness settling over him. 



IV 

When we do the will of God, 

Little time have we 
To discuss His hidden plans 

For eternity. 



139 



V 

The future doth no more affright, 
The past hath left me free. 

Whatever I might once have been 
Thank God ! I yet may be. 

VI 

"Write the vision," saith the Lord; 
"Speak the word — it shall be heard ; 
Though the vision tarry, — wait, 
It will come — or soon or late." 

VII 

Would you have stars for company 
While journeying far and nigh? 

Then as you walk stir not the dust. 
Lest it obscure the sky, 

VIII 

In every virtue lies concealed 

A latent vice that might have ruled. 
In every vice a virtue hides 

That needed only to be schooled. 

IX 

I AM the potter, 

Life is the clay; 
Shall clay mold the potter, 

Or potter the clay? 



140 



X 

Is there a beam in thine eye, my friend, 
That once was a mote in thy brother's? 

'Tis but the price thou hast heavily paid 
For daring to be judge of others. 

XI 

As speed the ships upon the sea 

Till friend clasps hand with new-found friend, 

So speed the forces all that tend 

To bring my unknown friend to me. 

XII 

The world has less of evil than of good, 

And he who trusts all men will be deceived 

Less often than will he who trusts no man, 
And is thereby of faith in man bereaved. 

XIII 

Though old age walk beside us 

And ppverty be near, 
With God for our companion 

We can have naught to fear. 

XIV 

Did you fail? You will not be forgotten 
Or helplessly thrown to the floor, 

For the gods always open a window 
Whenever the}'' close a door. 



141 



XV 

A LIE can run around the earth 

By any road you choose, 
And reach the goal, while laggard truth 

Is putting on her shoes. 

XVI 

The gods once gathered for breakfast, 
And Ixion came nothing loth, — 

But afterwards only remembered 
The design of the table cloth. 

XVII 

"A penny's worth of anything else 

Is only worth a penny; 
But a penny's worth of ease," he said 

"Is tuppence worth, if any." 

XVIII 

A SECRET when it's known to two 
Is secret nevermore, 'tis true; 
"Yet three may keep a secret," said 
Poor Richard — "but two must be dead." 

XIX 

"I THINK I know," said Adam, 

"I know I know," said Eve. 
Now say, dear sir and madam. 
Which one will you believe? 



142 



PROVERBS 



Be prompt. The tardy habit grows, 

And gets a sound berating; 
For people always count the faults 

Of those who keep them waiting. 

French 



II 

When God bids thee draw a load, 
Rope He lays beside the road; 
When He says that thou shalt ride, 
Then a horse He doth provide. 

Danish 



III 

When the web is well begun 

No need then to dread 
That it will be left undone; 

God will send the thread. 

Italian 



IV 

Choose your home when once you find 
The best that life can bring; 

In a land where all are blind, 
A one-eyed man is king. 

Spanish 



143 



Would you be fragrant? Choose a place 
Where fragrance you will meet; 

For he who dwells by one who sells 
Sweet perfumes, will be sweet. 

Arabian 

VI 

There is never a road that is long, 
When we know at its end 
Stands the house of a friend; 

For the heart as it goes sings a song, 

Danish 

VII 

Man is not just till he divines 
That God writes straight on crooked lines. 

Spanish 

VIII 

The Devil boldly walks abroad 

By night and day; 
But when he finds the door fast shut, 

He goes away. 

Spanish 

IX 

Two ears, one tongue — the moral seek: 
To listen twice while once 3^ou speak. 

Turkish 



144 



X 



The best man's faults upon his forehead written, 
Would make him pull hat over eyes — shame-smitten. 

Gaelic 



XI 



Confide a secret to a man that's dumb ; 
'Twill make him speak, for out 'tis bound to come. 

Livonian 



XII 

Though you give a pound of fretment, 
'Twill not pay a gill of debtment. 

T n^^i nt r-ri' 



Jamaican 



XIII 



When two friends meet with loving word, 
'Tis God Himself doth make the third. 

Italian 



XIV 

With God thou may'st cross the ocean, 

Shore to shore; 
Without Him cross not the threshold 

Of thy door. 

Russian 



145 



